Quantum Leap: The Next Generation
by KreativeKristine
Summary: Sam Beckett had been lost in time for twenty years, and it's up to a very special youth to leap into the past and try to bring him back home.
1. Chapter 1

QUANTUM LEAP:

**Author's note and disclaimer:The copyrighted characters of Quantum Leap are not mine; however, some of the characters such as Albert, Heather, and the supporting characters in the year 2000 are my OC's. This story was penned over fifteen years ago on an old computer, so I am hoping the formatting survived its transition from WordPerfect 5.1 to MS Word. I did run the spell check, so I hope all bloopers are fixed. Now, please enjoy this Quantum Leap fan fic!**

**QUANTUM LEAP:**

THE NEXT GENERATION

**JULY 10, 2020**

Over the years, his curiosity grew into a fixation, then into an obsession. All he wanted was to know the truth--what ever had become of his father. At the tender age of three, the boy asked his mother why he didn't have a daddy like all of his friends. Knowing the child was too young to understand, the woman simply told her son that Daddy died before he was born. He believed her. He believed his father was dead for the next twelve years. It wasn't until he had gone to visit his grandmother on her death bed that Albert Samuel Beckett started to believe otherwise.

His paternal grandmother, never believing her second son was dead, told the teen that his father was still alive, missing, but still alive. When Albert asked what made her so sure, she only said, "A mother would know if her children are dead; and my Sammy is not dead." Before she closed her eyes for the last time, Thelma Louise Beckett made her grandson promise he would try to find their missing relative and, if he did, to tell him that she loves him.

That one day--that one promise-- changed the youth's life drastically. Albert, once a confused kid with no idea what his future plans were, suddenly made up his mind that he would dedicate his life to searching for his long-lost father. He no longer veged in front of the TV; instead, he spent all his free time up in the attic, sifting through his dad's old notebooks and personal possessions. Old photos, CD's, and certain articles of the man's clothing made their way into Albert's dresser.

Albert's research was a secret to Donna Elisi. After the Project lost contact with Sam in early 2000, she tried to escape from her grief instead of dealing with it. Shortly after Albert was born, she and the baby left Project Quantum Leap and moved to Colorado, where she taught chemistry and physics classes at the local high school. Donna didn't talk about Sam that much; in fact, whenever Albert would ask what his daddy was like, she would either dismiss the subject or say she couldn't remember. Unable to part with Sam's personal belongings, Donna kept them packed in boxes and had them stashed in the far, back corner of the attic. Because his mother told him he was never to disturb those boxes, Albert knew he had to be careful not to let her catch him poking around Sam's things.

For the next five years, Albert was successful in keeping his project a secret and avoiding parental wrath, but his lucky streak ran out when he, totally immersed in his reading, didn't see his mother enter the room.

"Albert Samuel Beckett, what is the meaning of this!" Donna demanded, recognizing the familiar long-hand that littered the fine-lined notebook paper. "That stuff doesn't belong to you. I want to know what you think you're doing--"

"Why didn't you tell me the truth about Dad?" Albert interrupted with 'You lied to me.' written all over his face. "You told me that he was dead, Mom."

"Albert, he is."

"Then how come there's no death certificate or records of his being buried or cremated back in New Mexico?" the boy demanded. "If Dad died before I was born, there would be some records on him in Alamogordo . . . wouldn't there?"

Donna shot a surprised stare into Albert's brown eyes.

"I made some calls to New Mexico, Mom. Dad is missing. He was never declared dead. I want the truth, Mom; what happened to my father?" Albert insisted on some answers. "Are you gonna tell me, or do I have to read about it?"

After a sigh, Donna finally said, "It's a long story, Albert."

"I have the time," the boy countered stubbornly. "All of Dad's journal entries and reports talk about some top secret military project having to do with time travel. The entries stop in August 1995 . . . with the single exception of one on September 18, 1999 . . . and I think you know what was going on."

"Maybe he didn't have time to keep the journal all those years," was Donna's excuse.

"I don't think so," Albert cross-examined. "Dad made entries in his logs faithfully every day. Why would he all of a sudden quit making the entries without any good reason. . . And why are there no more reports or any other transactions from him after the entries stopped? Is that when he disappeared?"

"You're just as stubborn as he was," Donna declared.

"And I won't back off until you give me some answers," Albert insisted. "Another thing, Mom, we don't know he's dead; so, until we know one way or another, I don't wanna hear you talking about him in the past tense!" Albert then reiterated, "Now what happened to Sam Beckett?"

"It was his experiment," Donna finally gave in. "Your father tried to test it before it was perfected. He decided to be the guinea pig and send himself back in time . . . Well, when we tried to retrieve him, we couldn't bring him back." Swirls of wet nothingness blocked her view of her wide-eyed son. "Sam was lost in time for about four years . . . He came back for a little while in 1999, and that's when you were conceived . . . but he had to leap out again to prevent his best friend's death. He . . . "Donna choked on the words that couldn't make their way from her vocal cords to her lips. "He never came back."

After allowing his mother to cry in his arms for a little while, Albert continued his questioning in a gentler tone. "What about the Observer . . ." Albert asked as he noted one of the entries, "Admiral Calavicci . . . According to the duty roster, he was Dad's contact while he was . . . what didja guys call it . . . 'leaping around'. If he could get in touch with Dad, then he'd know if he was still alive or not."

"I don't know what happened, but sometime in the year 2000, Admiral Calavicci lost contact with Sam . . . and no matter how hard he tried to reestablish their link, he couldn't find him again."

"Is that when you decided to leave New Mexico?" Albert wondered.

"I . . . I just couldn't handle staying there anymore. Everything reminded me of him . . . There was a good chance he would never come back, and I wanted to get on with my life."

"So you ran away before you knew fersher?" A hurt expression crawled across the youth's face and sent tears to flood his eyes. "I can't believe you just gave up on him, Mom. You just can't quit and run away on someone you love . . . someone who needs you." When the tears spilled away, Albert stared at his mother, who appeared as a fuzzy image. "Mom, is the Project still goin' today?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I wanna see if there's any way to bring Dad home again."

"You can't bring him back, Albert!" Donna exclaimed. "We tried for years to retrieve your father. What makes you think you can?"

"I'll never know if I don't try. Besides, I made Grandma Beckett a promise, and I have every intention of doing what it takes to try and honor my word. I've gotta bring Dad home or die trying."

"But he could be dead," Donna quietly replied.

Albert rested his warm, caring hands on his mother's shoulders and passed a serious glance into her eyes. "Then shouldn't we at least bring him home for a proper burial?" After a fog of silence enveloped them for a brief moment, the determined young man continued, "Please, Mom . . . I have to do this. If you were the one who was missing, wouldjoo want Dad to try to find you?"

A sudden feeling of terror came over Donna. "You aren't thinking of leaping are you! I already lost your father; I'm not gonna lose you too!"

"Who said anything about leaping? I just wanna see if I can help them bring Dad home."

"Do you realize how far away the Project is?"

"Do you realize I'm twenty years old and perfectly capable of taking care of myself? C'mon, Mom, I go to college in California, and you're worried about me goin' to New Mexico?"

"That's another thing; what about college?" Donna wanted to know.

"School doesn't start until September 15. That gives me two months to work on helping Dad. If I don't bring him back by then, I'll come back here and get ready to leave for Cal Tech. I'll see if I can maintain contact with Quantum Leap from there. I'm gonna do what it takes to help my father, and there's nothing you can do or say to stop me." The same determination Donna saw many times in her husband shone in Albert's eyes. "You've gotta trust me to know what I'm doing."

"Will you call me once you get there?" Donna gave in at last.

"I promise." The sincerity that highlighted Albert's features also reflected that of his missing father's.


	2. Chapter 2

QUANTUM LEAP:

After packing a suitcase, that held mostly essentials and Sam's personal belongings, Albert kissed his mother good-bye, jumped into his 2004 Dodge, and began his long drive to the one destination where he was sure to learn his father's whereabouts and, possibly, how to bring him home. Towns, cities, and open land zoomed past the young driver who held only one thought in his mind, I'm bringing my father home. I'm bringing my father home.

_I remember growing up thinking I had no father and wishing just once that I had one like the other kids. I never dreamed that five years ago I would learn that my dad was not dead. If he is still alive, I feel a responsibility to help him in his time of need . . . After all, I believe he would do it for me. _

The beautiful mountains and glowing desert sand seemed to belong in a painting. Albert was breath-taken by the peaceful twilight landscape that seemed so wonderfully endless. Every spark of color had just fluttered from the starry night sky when the driver set eyes on a strange, twinkling shadow on the horizon. As he drew closer, he found himself approaching a large building that had to be Project Quantum Leap Headquarters. After parking his car and retrieving his case, Albert dashed to the security gate, where he showed his driver's license and birth certificate to the Marine stationed there.

"My name is Albert Beckett, Dr. Sam Beckett's son. I need to see Admiral Calavicci."

Albert gained entrance by having the guard punch in Sam's old security access code on the panel that lifted the gate. Another security guard directed his former boss's offspring to the Personnel Offices located on the second floor. When he came upon the door baring a plaque that read: ADM. ALBERT CALAVICCI, he knocked but received no response.

"May I help you?" A female voice startled the young man.

Albert turned to see an attractive red-head who appeared to be in her late thirties. "I'm looking for Admiral Calavicci. Has he gone home for the day?"

"He's down in the Control Room," the woman replied. "And you are . . . "

"Albert Beckett . . . Sam Beckett is my father."

"Albert Beckett . . . " the woman mused, searching through her memory, "Oh my g-- . . . You weren't even a month old when Dr. Elisi left the Project . . . My name is Heather Calavicci. The Admiral is my father."

"A pleasure, " Albert smiled as he shook Heather's hand. "As soon as he's free, I'd like to talk to him; it's about Dr. Beckett."

"Hold on a second, Albert," Heather said as she pushed back her sleeve to reveal a colorful, futuristic looking bracelet. She touched a small button that activated a bright, purple flash. The wrist communicator should have seemed strange to Albert, but he remembered finding another one among Sam's possessions. "Admiral Calavicci . . . Dad, can you hear me?" Heather spoke clearly to the bracelet. "Dad, acknowledge." Heather's voice became sharper with that last sentence.

"I hear you, Heather," a man's rough voice emulated from Heather's communicator. "Is this very important; I'm kinda busy right now."

"Too busy to see Dr. Beckett's son? He wants to see you," Heather answered in a professional tone. "Do you want me to bring him down?"

After a brief pause, the man replied, "Uh, sure." With that, a soft beep was heard, and the purple flash ceased.

"Follow me, Albert," Heather beckoned as she stepped ahead. "My dad's been running this project for the past twenty-five years. He used to be Project Observer . . . that is until we lost Dr. Beckett; now, he's our Senior Advisor.He's been spending a lot of time training the new Head Programmer."

"New Head Programmer?"

"Yes, Gooshie retired about two months ago, and Dad had a hard time finding a replacement for him." The two stopped at the elevator and patiently waited for the car to arrive and take them down to the Control Room. "Lower level three," the admiral's daughter commanded, speaking into the intercom on the elevator's wall.

When their destination was reached, the pair filed out of the vertical transport and started down a long, windowless hallway whose marble floor caused every footfall to echo with a hollow sound. When the parties approached the pneumonic doors that led to the Control Room, Heather inserted a plastic card into the slot located to the doors' immediate left, and they swished open to reveal a large, multi-colored computer console and two older technicians at work with the elaborate machine.

"Excuse me, Dad, this is Albert Beckett; he's come to talk to you about--"

"Oh my God . . . "A much older Al Calavicci rose from his seat and seemed to spend an eternity staring at the youth. "After all these years . . . "

The age of eighty-six was only apparent in Al's white curls and age-creased features. A pair of glasses framed his brown eyes and gave his face an air of wisdom. With the same composure he had carried for the past thirty or forty years, Al took a firm hold of his name-sake's hand and gave it a friendly shake.

"Good to meetcha, Sir," Albert greeted. "I wanted to talk to you about my father . . . Dr. Beckett."

"Oh, I can tell ya a lot about him, Kiddo--"

"No, Sir," Albert held up one hand in protest as he shook his head in disagreement. "I didn't come here to talk about him; I came to see if I can help you bring him home."

Al's 'glad to see ya' smile faded and was replaced by an expression that mirrored seriousness and hints of disappointment. "Son, we've been trying for the last twenty years to bring 'im back. We still can't do it; what makes you think you can do any better? We're all experts in this field, and you're what . . . a college junior?"

"Look," Albert snapped in tones that Al knew were echoes of his best friend's inflections. "I may be young, and I may not collect any paychecks; but that doesn't mean I don't know what I'm doing. I have the brains and the determination to make this work. If I don't, I don't; but I think I deserve a chance to try. Don't under-estimate me, Admiral."

"But do you know anything about quantum physics?" Al inquired.

"It's my major," Albert quickly reacted, sounding as though he had been rehearsing for the questioning Al was aiming at him.

"How much do you know about this experiment?"

"For the last five years I have been studying all of Dad's paperwork on this project. Give me some credit. I just might surprise you." Turning to face the whirring, humming computer that looked like a pile of giant legos, Albert continued, "Do you think I could have a crack at Ziggy?"

"Well, it's getting kinda late. Sammy Jo and I were about to call it quits for the evening." Al gestured to the middle-aged woman only he and Ziggy knew was Albert's half sister. "Uh, Sammy Jo, this is Albert Beckett; Albert, this is Sammy Jo Fuller," he introduced.

An exhausted looking Sammy Jo turned to face the new-comer, smiled and shrugged her shoulders. "Nice to meecha, Albert."

"Likewise." The visitor turned to meet Al's eyes once again. "Wouldja guys know if there's an inexpensive hotel around here?"

"Who needs a hotel? You can spend the night on my couch-bed, and we can move ya into Sam and Donna's old quarters tomorrow. The place has been sitting empty for the last twenty or so years."

"I appreciate that. Thanks," Albert gratefully accepted the offer that rescued him from spending the night in an over-priced room or on a park bench.


	3. Chapter 3

After spending a sleepless night on Al's fold-out bed, Albert awoke to a new day that proved to be busier than he had thought. He spent the morning in Sick Bay, undergoing the physical exam that was mandatory for all new staff members and a series of genetic tests that would prove his relation to Dr. Beckett. Other formalities included getting a picture ID and a communicator of his own. The next priority that needed to be met was for the newest addition to the Project to move into the empty rooms that had once been Sam and Donna's quarters.

Once he was finished with the red tape that had taken his entire morning, the young Beckett devoured a large lunch and immediately started for the Control Room where Al was waiting.

"Sorry it took so long to get here, Admiral," the boy apologized. "There was a long line in the cafeteria."

"Always happens," Al laughed.

"Well," Albert began as he perched himself on the vacant stool before the console. "We might as well get started. Okay, Ziggy," he continued, rapidly punching the computer's keys, "let's see the Retrieval Program."

"I'm afraid I can't show you the Retrieval Program, Mr. Beckett," Ziggy objected.

"Why not?" Albert demanded.

"That program is restricted to Senior Staff Members only," the sultry female voice sounded from within the large machine.

"Ziggy, I need to see the Retrieval Program!" Albert repeated sharply.

"I've already told you; that information is classified--"

"Ziggy!" Al barked imitating a Starfleet Officer's inflections as he laid his hand on Ziggy's sensor pad. "Access Retrieval Program! Authorization, Calavicci ID# 258!"

At Al's command, Ziggy complied and brought up the program for Albert to see. "Aye, Captain," she reacted with smugness and sarcasm.

After spending a lengthy time studying Retrieval, Albert finally spoke, breaking the near silence. "I think I know what went wrong here. Look at this, "he said, pointing out one of the complicated equations. "The program never worked because Dad musta leaped before finishing it . . . He had to know it was incomplete, so why did he try to leap?"

"I wish I knew, Albert. I was on my way here one night, and Gooshie called me on my cell phone sayin' that Sam was leaping. By the time I got there it was too late . . . Best I can tell, he did it to keep the Project from losing its government funding."

"Has anyone tried to complete the program and see if they could bring Dad back?" Albert wondered.

"The only one who could make sense of it was Dr. Beckett, and even he couldn't do anything once he started leaping. The time traveling did something to his memory; he never figured out how to bring himself back." Thinking about his best friend reminded the admiral of his last contact with the leaper. A fog of silence, guilt, denial, and emptiness rolled in and weighted the man's heart. Al's face was heated and reddened by the emotions that threatened to rob him of his composure.

"Admiral?" Albert's concern was reminiscent of his father's. "Are you okay?"

"I'm . . . I'm fine."

"I'm not so sure about that. You look like you just lost your best friend."

"That's because I did." Al swallowed hard and drew in a deep breath. His saddened eyes wanted desperately to flood with salty drops. Blinking hard to fight off the water that would cause him to lose control, Al started, "We maintained contact for five years before we lost him completely . . . Oh, God, I'll never forget the last time I saw him. You might say that that Leap was hitting very close to home for Sam. He was trying to talk to me, and . . . I thought he was losin' it. God, I can't believe the last words I said to him were 'Whatever it takes, I'm gonna getcha outta this'."

When he saw the weight of emotions force Al's head to hang and his eyes to meet his shoes, Albert felt he had to say something -- but what? "I'm sorry, Admiral. You guys were real close, weren'tcha?"

"Yeah," Al choked.

"Well gimme a few hours alone with Ziggy, and I'll see if I can fix this program. If I can get it working, we can find my father and get him back."

"Uh, Kid, it's not that easy t--"

"It's okay, I know what I'm doing," the enthusiastic youth interrupted as he plunged into his challenging task. "Trust me."

Realizing he would only go nowhere fast with the stubborn twenty-year-old, Al passed a skeptical glance his way and backed out of the room with doubt and curiosity written all over his face.

  

Keeping busy at Ziggy's console and submerging himself in his quest to repair the incomplete Retrieval Program had caused Albert to lose track of time. Small breaks for meals and trips to the rest room segmented his continuous work. When Al returned six hours later, he was greeted by a sight that once again sent him on a journey down memory lane. As Sam's Simon & Garfunkle CD was playing "Homeward Bound", the eager offspring and Ziggy were hard at work, dealing with complex physics problems.

Oh, my God, He's never known his ol' man, and he's acting just like him, Al thought as he gulped down the rock of nostalgia and loneliness that wanted to choke the life out of him. Maintaining himself, he asked, "So, how's it comin'?"

"Almost done," was Albert's answer. "Just a second . . ." Albert struck a few more keys and directed his question to Ziggy. "Well? How does it check out Zigster?"

"My name is Ziggy." the female hybrid computer clipped; insulted that someone mispronounced her name.

"How does everything look to you, Ziggy?"

"The program is complete, but I project only a less than 3.1 chance that Dr. Beckett will be successfully retrieved."

"If the program is complete, why such a slim margin of success!" Albert demanded, losing patience with the artificial entity.

"I can't retrieve Dr. Beckett if I don't know where or when he is. When we still had his body in the Waiting Room, I had a variety of retrieval theories to work on; but now that the body is also missing, there's nothing I can do. I would be dealing with very limited data and extremely complex problems. I would be on a continuous wild goose chase."

"So you're telling me that there's no way to find, much less retrieve him!" Albert shot back, seething in the flames of anger.

"There is one way to return Dr. Beckett to the present, but I wouldn't recommend it," Ziggy said. "If someone else were to leap back into the past, he or she might encounter Dr. Beckett and would be able to bring him home via simo-leap; however, since there is no way to find Dr. Beckett, there is no way to prove this theory."

"Simo-leap?" Albert wanted to know more. "How could anyone return him to the present by simo-leaping with him?"

"Simply by holding onto him," Ziggy answered in a vocal tone as if to say, 'I shouldn't have to tell you that'. "It once worked when Dr Beckett had to simo-leap with another time traveler named Alia. In order to leap Dr. Beckett home, you would have to have a firm hold of him at the time of your leap-out."

"Hold it Albert," Al finally found a chance to enter the conversation. "You can't think of leaping after him. To do that, you'd have to know where and when he is; and if we knew that, we'da brought him back by now."

"Heather Calavicci . . ." Albert summoned via his com-bracelet. "Heather, if you can hear me, I need you to meet me in Neurology in ten minutes."

"I'll be there," Heather's voice came from the bracelet.

"If you'll excuse me, Admiral, I've got a lotta work to do."

"What the hell do you think you're doing!" Al demanded, unable to believe what he was hearing. "Didn't I just tell you that we need to know how to find him before we tried the simo-leap! All that would happen is you might be lost in time like your dad, and I'm not about to stand by and lose another Beckett to the Space/Time Continuum."

"I wouldn't be lost; Heather will be my Observer, just like you were for Dad. Anyway, the Retrieval Program is fixed now, so there should be no problem."

"You don't even know where to look."

"I can travel to any day within my own lifetime, right? Well I'll have to start from the beginning and work my way forward."

"Do you realize that's 7,304 days, and that's not including the nine months you spend in Donna's womb? You also have to consider the fact that he could be just about anywhere? He's leaped all over the country and sometimes abroad. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack."

After a brief pause, Albert shot a serious look at the admiral and slowly said, "Standing around and arguing sure as hell won't help my dad, but my leaping after him just might do the trick." Albert again activated his communicator to call Sammy Jo to duty.

Stubborn stubborn stubborn, Al silently snarled to himself.

Rearranging the experiment to work around Albert and Heather's brain waves was a procedure that seemed to take less time than anticipated. Having no choice in the matter, Al reluctantly showed his youngest daughter how to operate the hand-link that had been in his possession since Sam's first leap. He gave her the quickie course in "Observer 101" and assured her that he would be with Sammy Jo and would be able to monitor everything that went on at her end.

Albert was soon ready to take his first leap. Dressed in a white protective suit, he entered the Control Room and had one last question for Ziggy.

"Ziggy, can you predict what Sam Beckett might look like at age . . . "Albert quickly figured how old his father would be, "He'll be sixty-seven next month."

"According to his genetic programming," Ziggy explained, "there is an 83.6 chance that Dr. Beckett would be completely gray and show more lines on his face. He may or may not have gained any weight, and looking at his dental records, I believe he would still have his original teeth. Dr. Beckett was always well known for taking excellent care of himself."

Albert took a minute to study the picture that Ziggy just printed. Like his father, Albert Beckett had a high IQ and a photographic memory. When every detail of the print-out portrait was engraved into the boy's mind, he proceeded to see if everything was ready for his first leap.

"Uh, Albert, are ya sure you wanna go through this?" Al still had reservations about allowing this Sam Beckett wannabe to talk him into taking such a dangerous risk.

"How many times do I have to tell ya, Admiral, my mind's made up. It's the past or bust."

A new worry served as a potential weapon for the elderly advisor. "What happens when you get there and you find that your memory's been Swiss-cheesed like Sam's was? How wouldja remember why you leaped in the first place? Chances are you might not even remember your own name, much less your father's. Kid, you wouldn't be able to do whatcha set out to do in the first place."

"When I was working on the Retrieval Program, I found out why Dad may have lost his memory. Ziggy had some sort o' malfunction that caused a minor power surge . . . and that power surge may have hit him the second he leaped out. Anyway, I ran a diagnostic on the Accelerator and its connection to Ziggy, and I was able to find and remedy the problem."

"Admiral, I can assure you with 98.4 accuracy that young Mr. Beckett will not suffer any adverse effects from the Accelerator or any other phases during the Leap Process," Ziggy confirmed.

"And if you don't come back," Al continued to seek some sort of excuse, "what am I supposed to tell Donna . . . that her only son is following in his father's footsteps and is now living in the fourth dimension?"

"Admiral Calavicci, I do believe you're paranoid," Ziggy pointed out. "You wouldn't have all that white hair if you didn't worry so much."

"Well, if you weren't just a sophisticated pile of circuits . . . if you were a real person, you'd know it's hell to have to stand here and find yourself about to relive the worst nightmare of your life!" Al argued, waving his fist in the air.

"I'm sure Mr. Beckett will be just fine," Ziggy shot back, determined to drive the point home. "Anyway, if he wants to leap and winds up lost in time, that's his problem to deal with. He's aware of the risks."

Shaking his head, Al threw his arms up and allowed them to fall limply to his sides. What could he do to stop a parallel hybrid computer with a big ego and a stubborn brainiac from achieving their much desired goal? After all, there was a tiny voice inside of him that reminded him how much he missed his dearest friend and that it would be a dream come true if Albert could successfully return Sam before Al would slip out of the state of existence and into the world of nothingness known as death.


	4. Chapter 4

QUANTUM LEAP:

A moment later, Albert was standing steadfast on the Accelerator Pad and was easily seen through the glass window that separated the chamber from the large room that Ziggy called home.

"Leap Date set, June 15, 2000. Standing by to fire," Sammy Jo reported as she rapidly flicked several switches and carefully turned a large dial on the console. "In 5 4 3 2 1." With that, Sammy Jo hit the large button located in the center of the control board that worked the Accelerator. Through the glass partition, the staff members could see the young man being enveloped by a hot, milky mist that continued to grow thicker and thicker, until the scientists could no longer see the new leaper.

As the mist continued to billow, Albert could feel the pressure building. He could swear he would be sent into orbit around the moon. Suddenly, the thundering, white commotion dissolved into the most quiet, peaceful, and blissful world of endless, blue nothingness. For what seemed to be a refreshingly long time, the wonderful void slowly unraveled to reveal an unfamiliar setting to the disoriented lad.

Once his vision cleared and he found his bearings, Albert came to the conclusion that he was in a picnic area near a man-made lake. Beach chairs, blankets, and bathing suit clad adults and children nearly covered the grassy areas as well as the sand grounds. The "pool" was rippling and swishing with the swimmers' every stroke or splash.

The hot summer air sent Albert to the edge of the pool, where he caught a very distorted face staring back at him from the other side of the water. He was relieved to find that the strange shadow was his own reflection and not someone else's. There was one bug he successfully worked out.

_I did it; I managed to leap back as myself. I recognize my face, and I remember who I am and why I'm here. Now all I have to do is find out where and when I am, so I can begin my search. The Admiral said it wouldn't be easy . . . Now as I look around, I realize he might be right about my quest being like looking for a needle in a haystack. Well, I won't get anything done just standing here; I might as well get to work._

A newspaper bearing the name THE RECORD was lying on top of the overflowing recycling bin that stood near the public pool's entrance. The typing in the corner of the rumpled page read June 15, 2000, the date Albert was expecting; therefore, another malfunction was overcome.

"Excuse me, Sonny," a police officer's voice suddenly came from behind, startling the young leaper. "Where's your membership badge?"

"Oh boy," Albert had to think fast to get himself out of this minor jam. "I didn't know I was supposed to have one," he improvised. "I'm new in town, and I came here to look for my father. You wouldn't happen to have seen him, wouldjoo? He's um tall, but not a giant . . . has gray hair and hazel eyes."

"Can't say as I did." The officer answered, shaking his head slowly.

"Thanks anyway," Albert said as he as he turned to leave.

"Listen, Young Man, if you wanna go in and see if you can find him, go ahead; but next time, be sure to have a membership badge or temporary pass."

"I will!" Albert called, darting for the sand area.

After roaming the pool area and picnic grounds, Albert found no sign of the older man who wouldn't even know he was the object of some college kid's search. He left the pool and began to ask the people living along the neighborhood streets if they had seen any older men fitting Sam's projected description. Nobody could help him.

It wasn't until he reached the hospital when Albert found a clue that might prove quite helpful. Apparently, a sixty-odd-year-old man came into the emergency room with a broken thumb about ten days ago, and he fit the description given to them by Albert.

"Do you know if he's still around here?" Albert inquired. "It's important that I find him."

"I don't know," the nurse at the reception desk shrugged. "When we asked for his address, he said he was taking a cross-country trip and was staying at the boarding house on Kirby Avenue. I'd never seen him around here before; for all I know, he coulda just popped in outta nowhere."

"Would his name happen to be Sam Beckett?"

Checking her forms, the nurse answered, "Why, yes."

Before Albert could ask for directions, a strange, wooshing sound came from behind, and Heather stepped into the corridor through a white doorway that led to the future. "Thank God I found you, Albert," she exhaled in relief, keying the sequence that closed the door and rendered that bright rectangle no more. "I found him, Sammy Jo," her words were directed to the flashing gizmo that rested in her left hand. "Okay, Albert, the good news is that you leaped into yourself on June 15, 2000. You've landed in Ridgewood, New Jersey."

Intending his next question for Heather, the young time traveler pretended to direct the inquiry to the nurse. "Couldjoo tell me how to get to the boarding house?"

Both women began to talk at once; Heather rapidly striking keys on her link, and the nurse fishing through her memory. "One block north and three blocks east of here," they replied in uneven unison.

"I'll find it," Albert announced as he zoomed down the hall with Heather not more than five feet behind.

It would seem that the persistent young man was running as if propelled by plutonium. To him, the destination he was approaching was the key to the one part of his past that had been kept from him for so many years. Large bursts of excitement came in the form of adrenalin floods, rapid breathing, and explosive heart palpitations. Sidewalks, front yards, and houses didn't seem to exist in this far from relaxing state of being, and the symptoms of his anticipation grew more and more intense with every running footstep he took. I'm finally gonna see my father, and I'm gonna bring him home, was the thought that echoed louder and louder from within his head. Paying no attention to the heat and the toll it might take on him, he continued to speed along the streets until he reached a three story, brick house that sat perfectly centered before the well-mowed front lawn.

Like a small child scampering down the mall to see Santa Clause, Albert scrambled up the steps and drove his finger into the button that activated a chime that could he heard from inside the house. In a second, a very pregnant blonde wearing a pink, floral maternity dress and an unraveling French braid appeared in the doorway. "Yes?" she said to the man standing on her front porch.

"Excuse me, my name is Albert . . ." he panted as exhaustion tried its best to catch up with him. "I'm looking for a man named Sam Beckett . . . He's in his mid sixties, has hazel eyes and gray hair, and stands about . . . " he leveled his hand to what he guessed would be Sam's height, "so tall. Is he staying here?"

"He is, but he's not home right now," the lady apologized. Noting her visitor's heat-related discomfort, she offered, "You look like you could drop at any minute, Young Man. Why don'tcha come in and have a glass of water. If you want, you can stay and wait for Sam; he should be back soon."

"Thank you," Albert gratefully accepted as he entered and allowed his hostess to guide him back into the kitchen. As she had done since popping in to check on her leaping friend, Heather followed and stood beside Albert, who had just sat down in one of the cushioned kitchen chairs.

"So, are you a friend of Sam's?" the blonde asked, pouring ice cold water into a plastic _Jurassic Park III _tumbler and mixing in a little salt.

"Well, um . . . "Albert stumbled over the right words to say. "Let's just say that it's really important that I talk to him. The circumstances are too difficult to explain; it's just between the two of us."

"Sam came here about two weeks ago . . . givertake a day and he offered to barter for his keep. He helps out around here and runs errands for me in exchange for meals and a bed." the mother-to-be explained. "Is your drink all right, Albert?"

"Yeah, it's okay; miss . . ." Albert answered, trailing off in hopes of finding out the name of the woman who was kind enough to invite him into her home.

"Beverly," she responded, embarrassed that she hadn't introduced herself when her visitor made his name known.

"Beverly Webb . . ." the red-headed observer muttered as she consulted her hand-link. "Thirty years old . . . eight months pregnant and . . . oh, no, recently widowed." As more information became available on the link, the hologram continued to read it off to the junior leaper. "She decided to take in boarders after her husband Kevin died. She's taken in recent college graduates, freelance writers, and people who don't have enough money to afford a place of their own." At the next read out, the holographic lady's face lost all color, and she stood denying the statistics that Ziggy was showing her. It was clear that she didn't want to tell Albert what was in store for Beverly.

"Beverly, couldjoo tell me where the bathroom is please?" Albert requested.

"Just go out the door we came in, and it's the door under the stairs."

"Thank you," Albert smiled at Beverly and winked, motioning for Heather to come with him. As he closed the door, he turned to face the hologram who appeared to be standing in the middle of the sink. "What's going on Heather?" he wanted to know.

"What do you mean?"

"There's something you're not telling me; what is it!" he insisted on an answer. "Does something happen to her?"

"Yes. In about a half hour, she is found passed out in her back yard . . . Evidently, one of the boarders found her and had her rushed to the hospital. They're able to getter cooled down and, as a precaution, decide to take the baby through caesarian; but . . . she has no health care insurance, and the hospital expenses cost her every penny she's got. From there, her life goes downhill. She loses the house in six months, and the boarders wind up in the streets. Beverly also ends up in the streets, and . . . her baby is taken and placed in a foster home . . . where he is abused by an alcoholic foster parent." This last sentence came with much difficulty, for a large lump of growing emotion seemed to lodge itself in the observer's throat.

"No . . . no way," Albert gasped in denial as he slumped onto the closed toilet seat. "How did she pass out? Is there anyway we can prevent it . . . I mean if it hasn't happened yet . . ."

"Ziggy says she suffered from heat exhaustion. She musta been doing some work in the garden; she was found in a flower bed, and her hands were dirty."

"Then all we have to do is--" Albert's conclusion was interrupted by an ear-splitting squeal emulating from the miniature machine in Heather's hand. "What's the matter with the link?"

"I don't know," Heather answered as she frantically punched the gadget's buttons. "Sammy Jo, What the hell is going on . . . What! Can you over ride?"

"What is it; what's going on!" Albert did not like what was happening.

"Ziggy's having some trouble . . . with some micro-chips. Sammy Jo is trying to remedy the problem . . . She says we're gonna have to retrieve you within thirty minutes or you could end up lost in time like your father."

"I just fixed the Retrieval Program!" the time traveler argued.

"Ziggy can only put up with the new program for thirty minutes . . . then she'll have to erase all you've done, or she'll overload and suffer irreparable damage. Whether or not you find Sam, we'll have to retrieve you within the next half hour, Albert."

Sharp pangs of disappointment, guilt, loneliness, and defeat stabbed at Albert's heart like a thousand swords, and his heart began to pound with increasing intensity as it continually sank into the pit of his stomach. Nothing seemed to matter any more now that his chances of retrieving Sam were slim and that he knew of Beverly's grim future. After letting out a sigh, the physics major decided nothing would be accomplished if he just stood in a bathroom feeling sorry for himself. Maybe there was a very slim chance he would save Sam, he was certain he would do everything within his power to prevent Beverly's heat-related illness from ruining her life, the lives of her boarders, and that of her unborn child. Standing to exit the closet of a bathroom, Albert met the eyes of his holographic companion. "You say she fainted from heat exhaustion? Well, all I have to do is see if I can keep her from over-exerting herself."


	5. Chapter 5

In the kitchen, Beverly was pulling a white, draw-string garbage bag from the cupboard under the sink and was about to exit through the back door when Albert stepped closer to her and asked her what she was doing.

"I have to pull some weeds out of the garden. I just can't put it off any longer." Beverly had one foot out on the back stoop when the twenty-year-old suddenly stopped her by clamping a firm hand on her shoulder.

"It's too hot out there; you could get sick if you spend too much time in the sun," Albert protested.

"I'm not gonna melt," Beverly objected.

"In your condition, you shouldn't be working out in all that heat. Look, if you're not gonna stay inside, at least let me help you with the weeds." Once he noticed Beverly's hesitant nod, Albert released her shoulder and stepped to the cabinet where his hostess had produced the _Jurassic Park _cup. He then pulled out a Green Peace cup and proceeded to fill both tumblers with cold salt water. "I think we'd better have a drink before we go out," he advised.

"Honestly!" Beverly exclaimed.

"Humor me," Albert countered sincerely as he held out the Green Peace cup to his pregnant company.

With a half 'Yes Master' and 'I suppose you're right' glance Beverly accepted the drink. When the two consumed half of the contents of their tumblers, they exchanged looks and filed out the back door with what was left of their salt water.

After a blistering fifteen minutes of laboring under the hot merciless sun, Albert noticed that Beverly was growing pale. "I think you'd better have some water, Beverly," he suggested.

"Oh, no thanks, I'm not thirsty."

"You don't look well . . . I really think you should--"

"I'm fine," the woman insisted with 'You worry too much' written all over her heat-discolored face.

"Please . . ." Albert begged. "I know you probably think my ocean doesn't quite reach the beach, but you've gotta trust me. Too many people think they can beat the heat, but they only end up in the hospital with sun stroke. You could really hurtcherself if you stay out here much longer."

As Beverly stubbornly continued to pull the weeds, Albert made up his mind that if he can't convince her to take a break and cool off, then he would try to keep her cool another way. He tried following her with the garbage bag, careful to cast his shadow right over her; he sprayed her with the garden hose; and he activated the sprinklers in hopes that the drops would keep her from overheating. Beverly stumbled to her feet and immediately turned off the water. She was convinced that this young man was a few pepperonis short of a pizza.

"Are you out of your mind!" she declared. "We're in the middle of a major drought, and it's against the law to waste water like that."

"I just wancha . . . Oh, what's the point!" Albert stalked into the house. Remembering what he read about his father's leaps, he found himself wondering how Sam Beckett ever did it. If Dad were here, how would he handle this . . . Albert silently asked himself. He'd use that two hundred and some-odd IQ brain of his to figure a way outta this mess.

Almost at once, an idea popped into the junior leaper's head. "If only I can find a way to getter to come inside . . ." he began to talk to himself as he paced the kitchen floor. "What if someone were to call her long distance . . . But whom?" Since Heather had gone back to check on the situation with Ziggy, Albert had no way of knowing if Beverly had any living relatives that would call. "Damn it, Heather, I could use your help."

Realizing he had to find a solution on his own, Albert felt he had to take action and fall back on his good imagination. He promptly grabbed the phone, dialed 0, and asked the operator to call back, claiming there was something wrong with the bell. In a second the operator called back, and Albert allowed the phone to ring twice before picking it up.

"It's working, Operator, thanks." After the operator hung up, Albert left the receiver on the table and briskly stepped to the open window. "Beverly!" he called, "phone for you!" When a tired Beverly entered the kitchen, he continued, "I was in the bathroom when it rang."

"Hello . . . " she answered as she picked up the receiver. "Hello . . . Hello? Are you still there?" When there was no response, she dropped the hand-held device into place.

"Maybe it was a bad connection; if it's important enough, they'll call back."

"All right," Beverly had had enough. "I wanna know what's the matter with you. You seem to think I'm gonna die out there."

"I just have a bad feeling that something'll happen to you if you stay out there too long. I don't wanna see ya get sick and have to go to the hospital. Anyway, all that heat can't be good for your baby. Can'tcha wait till morning to finish with those weeds or let one o' the boarders do it for you?"

Before a response could come from Beverly's lips, the front door opened, and the air was filled with the shrill barks of a yapping puppy. The noise grew in intensity as a gray haired man dressed in a white shirt and brown, cotton pants entered and deposited a pet carrier onto the floor. Without the use of his wrapped up thumb, he managed to open the cage, and a shaggy little bundle scurried out, happy to be free. The man then squatted down to the pup's level and began to play with the panting fur ball. At one glance, Albert was astounded to see he had, after all, found the man he was sure was Dr. Sam Beckett.

"You're home now, Wiggles," he said to the dog as the canine lapped his face. "That's right; no more vet . . . no more shots." He broke into laughter as Wiggles continued to lick his face.

"So how'd it go at the vet, Sam?" Beverly inquired.

"He says the dog is fine . . . She weighs about ten pounds and is the most hyper little thing he has ever seen." Sam pulled a crumpled paper from his pocket and held it out to Beverly. "Here's the receipt."

Beverly extended her hand to accept the slip of paper, and she studied it as she exited for another room.

As sudden as a bolt of lightning, the Imaging Chamber door flew open, and Heather rocketed into the room without bothering to close the door again. Urgency and panic sharpened her features, and her anxiety told the one who could see her that she meant business. "Albert, we have to leap you outta here now! Ziggy says it's now or never! Sammy Jo, energize Retrieval in 5 4 3 2 NOW!"

There wasn't enough time to blink. As the neon-blue light started to envelop him, Albert lunged forward, tripping over Wiggles. Instead of allowing Sam to help him to his feet, Albert wrapped his arms around the senior Beckett and held on tight. Sam wouldn't dare let go of the boy whom he believed had trouble pulling himself to a standing position. All at once, the wonderful world of peace and relaxation replaced the boarding house kitchen, taking the two Becketts through a blue void that ended in a white, booming setting of hot, high pressure mists. As the fog thinned and dissipated, the father and son found themselves huddled on the floor of the Accelerator Chamber.

"What's happening?" the thoroughly confused older Beckett directed his question to the college age kid who still held him in a tight embrace. "Where are we?" His eyes were two caverns of disorientation, fear, and curiosity.

A great bolder of emotion made the words hard to say, but Albert managed to say, "You're home, Dad."

"Dad?" was all Sam could say before falling limply against the boy's body.

Like a tornado, Al burst into the small room, concern and worry masking his face.

"I think he fainted," Albert told the admiral.

Al whipped his communicator out of his pocket and activated it. "Medical Team . . . We need two gurneys down in Control . . . On the double!" he ordered.

It wasn't long before Sam and Albert were placed on gurneys and rushed to Sick Bay for a battery of tests. Albert was released as soon as the doctors were finished with him, but Sam suffered from complete physical exhaustion and would probably sleep for days. Otherwise, he was perfectly fine. Both best friend and son took turns sitting and watching Sam snooze peacefully.

It was a dream come true for Al, who thought he would never again see, much less touch, his dearest friend. Lines of age were engraved in Sam's face, and his brown hair with that one gray streak was replaced with frosty-gray waves and a small lock of snow-white wisps. Half expecting his hand to go right through the long-lost leaper, Al reached out and stroked Sam's silver bangs away from his closed eyes; then he took the physicist's hand and would not let go for fear that the man would somehow fade away. Sam was home; his appearance altered by the added twenty years, but he was home nevertheless.

  

Seventy-two hours had elapsed before Sam's state of sleep finally decided to let him take in, and enjoy, his surroundings. Al was the one who was at his side when he awoke.

"Al?" Sam whispered. "Is that really you?"

"Yes, it's me, Pal. I'm right here," Al assured him.

"I'm home . . . I'm . . . home." Sam tried to gather his strength so he could give his best friend a hug he would not soon forget, but he found he was too weak to even lift his own weight enough to sit up.

Al leaned over and scooped Sam into a gentle, fatherly hug. "Oh, Sam, we thought we would never see you again after losin' you on that leap. That was twenty years ago . . . and after all these years . . . "Al found himself unable to complete his sentence; all he could do was get choked up every time he looked at Sam.

"Al." A child-like smile curved Sam's lips, and his tired eyes did what they could to shine. "You're not smoking . . . you . . . I mean your clothes don't even smell of cigar smoke. Didja finally give up those disgusting things?"

"Just after we lost you . . . I thought you'd want it that way. You were always nagging me to quit, but I wouldn't listen. When I found out that I might never see you again, I decided to honor your wish and give it up. It was my way of paying respects to a long-lost best friend."

"I love you, Al." Tears rolled and stung Sam's eyes.

"Hey, don't get all mushy on me, Kiddo," Al countered, holding up one hand.

The scientist's loving expression gradually changed into one of curiosity. "How were you able to finally retrieve me after all these years?"

"You can thank Albert for bringing you home."

"Albert?"

"He's new. He wrote up a new Retrieval Program and worked out the rest of the bugs in the Accelerator. Thanks to dumb luck, he was able to leap back, find you, and bring you home via simo-leap . . . like you did with Alia on that one leap. Albert's the reason you're home, Sam." Al gestured to the slumbering, snoring young man huddled in a chair on the other side of the bed. "Albert's your son, Sam."

"He called me Dad," the patient recalled.

"He's your son, Buddy-boy. I helped Donna deliver Albert a long time ago--"

"Donna . . . Where's Donna?"

"We're flying her in today. After you disappeared, she couldn't handle it and moved off to Colorado where she didn't have to deal with your loss day in and day out. Don't be angry with her, When she found out you weren't coming back she went into premature labor, and it took the doctors hours to stop the contractions. Beeks suggested she get away from the Project for her own good. She had to get on with her life for her sake and Albert's."

Not another word was spoken before the sleeping man stretched out his legs, yawned, and tumbled to his feet. Seeing that his father was awake, Albert slowly approached the bed where Sam was lying, staring straight into his brown eyes. At a loss for words, he just stood over his new-found father, smiling warmly and shedding misty tears of sentiment. With tears in his own eyes, Sam reached up and brushed away the tears that spilled from his son's eyes. An embrace erased the sterile room and left behind a warm feeling of everlasting father-son bonding. Nothing else seemed to matter except for the two family members' long awaited meeting.

Al rested a gentle hand on Sam's arm and pierced his buddy's eyes with a glowing glance. "Congratulations, Sam, it's a boy."


	6. Chapter 6

mber 14, 2020

**September 14, 2020**

The tiny dormitory room was in complete chaos. Both Albert and his new roommate had plenty of work to do before they could even think about dinner or any other social activities.

"So, whadjadoo this summer, Albert?" the new transfer student asked as he shoved his open suitcase into the corner underneath his desk.

"Went to New Mexico to see my father." Albert answered, plastering a 10 by 12 _Star Trek XIV _poster over his bed. "I never met him until this past July."

"You never . . . "The other student's face reflected the picture of confusion. "How can you never meetcher own father?"

"He was a missing person since before I was born," Albert explained. "After twenty years, he was finally located, and I spent some time with him."

"Twenty years? Man, that's weird," the other guy gasped. Albert's roommate tossed a bundle of rolled up posters onto his bed and began to chew on the end of one of the pencils scattered across his untidy desk. "My mom keeps talking about someone that disappeared twenty years ago too."

"Whatter ya talking about, Tony?" Albert wondered as he stood heavy text books upright in an empty milk crate by his own desk.

"My mom used to take in boarders a long time ago. She told me that one day, before I was born, some kid came by looking for one of the boarders . . . He wasn't home, so the other guy stuck around and waited for him. When the boarder brought our dog home from the vet, he gave Mom the receipt; and she stepped into the other room. When she came back, there was the dog, but the kid and the boarder were gone without a trace. Mom never could figure out what happened to them."

If you only knew. Realizing he couldn't leak any information about Project Quantum Leap, Albert fell back on his father's leap-related memory loss to back up the reason behind Sam Beckett's disappearance. "My dad had amnesia for a long time, and was living somewhere far from home. Finally, a relative found him and brought him home to recover," Albert improvised with just enough truth to protect the Project without making a liar of himself. "He's doin' fine now . . . still fuzzy at times, but he'll be okay."

"That's cool," Tony commented as he placed a framed picture on his dresser.

Albert's brown eyes and dumfounded mouth popped open when he caught a glimpse of the woman featured in the rectangular frame. The body was thinner, but the face was the same as he remembered it during his leap. Smiling at anyone who set eyes on the photo, Beverly Webb stood with a newborn child asleep in her arms. For several seconds, the dumbstruck physics major stood staring at the picture, and Beverly's image kept staring back. The spell was broken when a mountain of paperbacks came tumbling down on Tony's head.

"Want some help, Tony?" Albert volunteered as he bent down to retrieve some of the fallen reading material.

"Sher," Tony thankfully accepted his roommate's offer.

Lying on the floor with its inner front cover exposed was a paperback that bore the title: Life In The Fourth Dimension; and, under the title and author's name, the words: **Property of Tony Webb**. Albert picked up the novel and studied the page that had caught his attention. "Oh, boy," he whispered as he deposited the book on his roommate's desk.


End file.
